A Moment of Introspection
by Razzie89
Summary: Carlisle Cullen remembers his past during a calm moment at the hospital.


_This is a Twilight fanfiction written from Carlisle's point of view. No big new elements here - only the retelling of some key points of his life by Carlisle himself rather than Edward in the original book. This also contains a couple of sentences from Midnight Sun, because I felt I had to retell things exactly the way they were written by Stephenie Meyer. Not including these would have meant changing the story - although I hope that I do not harm any copyright by having them in. As far as I know, it should be alright - since it's only very small excerpts. Enjoy._

* * *

_**Forks, 2005**_

I placed my hands on my back as I walked through my work office. It was something distinctly human, and thus one of my little tools to keep the outside world from getting suspicious over me. It wasn't an easy thing to prevent, because although I had learned to resist blood without much of an effort, I still looked paler than most of the people in need of medical treatment.

Of course it had been a subject of discussion when I first arrived at the hospital. If I hadn't worn my own set of doctor's clothing when I came in, they might have mistaken me for someone in need of help. But my experience as a doctor became clear to them very quickly. I had been practising my skills long before any of the most skilled doctors of this age were born, long before some diseases even existed. And I never needed much longer than a few seconds to know what was wrong with a patient. As a result of that, respect soon took the place of suspicion, and I could safely perform the job I wanted to without attracting attention.

I couldn't add too many personal items to my office at the hospital – the less my colleagues knew about my family and where I come from, the better. I didn't even need any such things – they are merely tools for humans to keep their memories alive. My own memories didn't fade with time. A photograph of Esme would never be as clear as the vision in my mind is. But to imitate human habits, I did place a picture on my desk. Nobody payed enough attention to see that a small painting was sitting within the frame, rather than an actual picture. This came from a time without pictures.

It was a sketch of something I couldn't remember as clearly, because this was mostly not a vampire memory. It was the city of London in the 17th century, before the Great Fire would ruin its beauty a few decades later. The painting showed a peaceful, fairly calm London – certainly compared to the current times. In wondering how it would be to roam its streets again, to wander through its dark alleyways without the sound of passing cars or airplanes, I found my thoughts traveling back to my time as a young human man, taking over my father's peculiar job as a way of life.

_**London, 1640ies**_

My father was a very respected man. Not only was he a pastor, a man of God to the still very believing people of my youth – he regularily went hunting for supernatural beings along with the other men in town. Of course, I knew now that he rarely or never caught the right beings. Real vampires, real werewolves – they knew how to stay out of the humans' hands. After my father grew too old for this physically exhausting activity, I took his place as leader of the hunt. I believed this to be the right thing to do. Stepping in the footsteps of your father was a very traditional thing back then – and, having always been faithful myself, I wanted to do what was right for my people as God undoubtedly wanted.

On the other hand, I was aware of the possibility of judging people the wrong way and ending their life for being no more than a tad different from mainstream society. I suppose this must have been a good trait, and yet it's the very trait that cost me my life. My people were getting suspicious after I kept suspects from being executed several times. Although the others were convinced of these people's evil nature, I didn't want to do this until I was absolutely sure. It was better to run the risk of an evil being getting away now and then, than to take the live of an innocent person. Because that would make us no less evil than the beings we persecuted.

But a few months after I had taken over from my father, I was sure of what I had found. This time it couldn't be human beings. The fear people easily felt during these times kept them from spending any time in unsafe places whenever possible. The beings I had noticed retreating to the sewers every morning couldn't be my kind. After the long wait and the many disappointments I gave to my accompanying hunters, they were eager to come with me when I told them about this. The chance of killing supernatural creatures in public should not be wasted – not only was it considered a good deed by itself, it also gave the rest of the Londoners a feeling of relative safety after seeing we had things more or less under control. That we had found the bad guys, tracked them down and ended their lives before they could hurt anyone.

It didn't end this way that night.

We gathered at the entrance of the sewers, holding our weapons in the hand. They were primitive things, really – they might have taken out a human, but not a single vampire would even so much as feel an itch when we hit them. Although me and my friends thought we had the upper hand, this was a very wrong assumption.

When one of the creatures finally emerged and initially ran past us, we held on to our victorious feelings and chased after it. But it didn't take long before it turned around to face us instead of running away. It was then that the color and seemingly ancient texture of its skin made us realize something in a shock. This being was much stronger than us. We should have stayed away rather than seeking it out. I think at that moment, everybody realized that all our executions had been false ones. The difference between this vampire and the screaming people we burned at the stake was too striking. Its eyes seemed to have no pupils in them, they were merely black circles. Its face, although containing all the necessary parts to be human, looked distinctly different from our own. Even the speed at which it ran was proof of its inhumanity.

Too late, I realized it was running towards me. Not that running away would have made any difference, but I didn't even get the chance to try. The vampire didn't come to a stop in front of me but rather dragged me down on the ground with it at the speed it had approached me with. I remembered the intense pain I felt when the back of my head hit the ground, though only instants later it was consumed by a much more severe pain. Somewhere deep inside, I knew what was happening, though my thoughts weren't clear. The pain I felt, along with the bloodloss, made me too weak for clear thinking. I felt myself balancing on the edge of unconsciousness, but couldn't clear my mind just enough to let myself slip away. One thing I knew above all as I felt I was now alone. If I wanted to live – whatever _live _would mean now, I had to get out of here.

On instinct more than conscious decision, I dragged myself to the edge of the street on my elbows. I couldn't order the rest of my body to move anymore. The blazing pain burned through every part of my body. I must have hurt my elbows in their brave attempt to pull my body along with them, but it didn't matter. I couldn't feel any more pain than I already did. When I opened my eyes, I didn't see any more than the blackness that was already there when they were closed. But I knew either way that nobody would have stayed behind to help me. They all thought I was dead – and in theory, I was.

_**London, a few weeks later**_

The pain all over my body had stopped. It was no longer possessing me entirely, making me roll over from my back to my stomach, clasping my teeth together and eventually letting out in a long helpless cry as had happened before. I didn't know the procedure – I figured that sooner or later, this hell would stop, but I had no idea of the exact timespan. In a small corner of my mind I took notice of the sun going up and down several times through the small cellar window until the pain finally receded. It hadn't vanished – rather, now, all the pain had gathered in one place. My throat burned with an almost equal blazing-hot fire as I had felt all around my body during transformation. I knew the solution to that, of course – but I couldn't let the demon inside me get what it wanted. I believed that I was still a child of God. I had to believe it. What would become of me if I didn't?

Although having no access to a mirror, I was convinced that my body must have radically changed. But I was just as convinced that the person inside of me had remained the same. I still felt the same responsibilities, the same interests, the same soul. It was me who was inside, the same young man from before. I couldn't go back, however – they would only attempt to kill me if I did. And I would probably attempt to do the same to them.

The fire in my throat was slowly taking full control of me. Perhaps it didn't matter that the same person was still inside, if the outside was screaming to get what it wanted – screaming louder and more aggressively every day until there was nothing else I could think of. Nothing else but one thing.

Obviously, suicide would not have been an option in my human life. It was a thing for the weak, and looked down upon. It was taking away the life you had been given so graciously. But slowly a new consideration started taking shape in my head. I was no longer human – and my very existence was more of a danger to the human populace every day. I didn't know how much longer I could resist going back into town and doing what I had to do by instinct. Maybe the rules were different for my kind. Maybe suicide would be the right thing to do in my position – in a way, it would mean saving the lives of others. Saving the lives of people who still actually lived. My being gone would make no difference, since my death was already behind me.

_**Chicago, 1918**_

My original plans didn't quite work out. It wasn't so easy to kill yourself when you were a vampire. But I now knew that there wasn't any need for me to die anyway. There was a second option, an alternative path to this life. I couldn't be sure anyone before me ever walked this path, but I felt inside that this must be the right way to live.

I couldn't remain strong without killing, of course. Blood was my only feeding option now, but I realized that this didn't need to mean murder. Not in the generally percepted sense, anyway – because humans murdered for survival just as much as I did. I took down the same creatures as they did, now – animals. It wasn't exactly tasteful, but neither was that a priority of mine. I could live off of this, that's what mattered.

I needed something else however, if I was to endure all this time alone. And so I once again followed my calling to help people, this time studying medicine and eventually becoming a doctor. It's the hardest job a vampire could ever think of exercising, of course. Human doctors wouldn't have a problem with the sight of blood, and so neither should I. But my compassion for both the patients and the others in the room slowly taught me to keep it together. I didn't have to deal with stress and fear as much as the others did – it was part of my vampire nature to remain calm. And so when those things did affect me one night, the unfamiliar feeling struck me twice as badly as it should have.

The woman's disease didn't surprise me. The Spanish influenza had infected a considerable amount of the country's population, and it was impossible to save the large majority of them with the medicaments of the early 20th century. Though I had always known that I possessed a medicament of my own which would cure what other things couldn't, I had never truly considered it. Death was the most natural part of a human life cycle, and it was the way things were supposed to end. I had escaped this fate, but I wasn't sure at what cost that would be. I told myself that I had an equal chance to reach some sort of heaven in the future, but in truth, I didn't know. And I didn't want to take the afterlife of good people away in an attempt to save them at all costs.

It's the woman's request which threw me off balance. Perhaps she just wanted her child to have a life, to get a chance to learn about the world and have its own position within the society someday. But the words she used for her request made me doubt this. It sounded like she knew what I had tried to keep from the people around me. Like she, although in her deathbed, had managed to break through the shield I had carefully put up around me. And because of this, I started to consider what I never had before. I would make another one of my kind, and make her last wish come true. And I would do what I could to teach him about my way of living this life - but in the end, the decision was his. If he decided to live as was our nature, then I wouldn't be able to stop him. I could only hope he would see reason.

_**Forks, 2005 – II**_

"Carlisle."

It took me a moment to turn away from the memories I had been going over as Edward unexpectedly entered my office. I frowned for a moment, wondering what he could be doing here. My initial reaction was linked to the doubts I had just been remembering. _Edward, you didn't… _But he interrupted my thoughts. "No, no, it's not that."

It had been natural of me to be unsure of his future when I was about to turn him, but I should have known better by now. And another thing was even better proof that Edward hadn't crossed the line. _Of couse not, I'm sorry I entertained the thought. Your eyes, of course, I should have known…_

"She's hurt, though, Carlisle, probably not seriously, but – "

Edward explained the situation to me, and I relaxed then. What he did had certainly been dangerous for the secrecy of our family's secret, but it ended well in the end. And if this girl was what Edward wanted, then I would not object.

I opened the big doors to the hospital's waiting room and smiled at Bella.


End file.
